"Oh, yuh couldn't, couldn't yuh? My land, ain't yuh uppity all of a sudden? Yuh don't know what yo're talkin' about. Men never do nohow an' a sick man don't, special. Yo're a-comin' to my house, an' I'm a-goin' to put yuh to bed an' cure that sprained ankle. Yuh can just bet I am. John Doubleday, you h'ist him aboard that pony right away quick an' fetch him round instanter. If he ain't outside my door in five minutes I'll come back an' know the reason why. Hurry now. I'm goin' ahead an' get some hot water ready." Twenty minutes later Loudon was sitting in the Burr kitchen. He was smoking a cigarette and soaking his sprained ankle in a bucket of hot water. At the kitchen table stood Mrs. Burr shaking up a bottle of horse liniment. "What's this John Doubleday tells me about yore ride no'th bein' a joke?" asked Mrs. Burr. "I dunno no more'n Doubleday," replied Loudon. "It's all beyond me." "It's shore a heap funny. No feather-dusters, no miner folks a-standin' 'em off, an' that gent who brought the news runnin' off thataway an' shootin' at yuh an' all. It must mean somethin', though. A feller wouldn't do all that just for a real joke. It's too much." "I wish I knew what it meant, ma'am." "Well, it's a queer world, full o' queer folks an' queerer doin's," observed the lady, holding the bottle against the light. "Anyhow, this here liniment will fix yuh up fine as frog's hair. Now yuh must just lift yore foot out an' I'll dry it. Shut up! Who's running this, I'd like to know? Land sakes, why shouldn't I dry yore ankle? Shut up, I tell yuh. "My fathers, Tom, you men make me plumb tired! Idjits, the lot o' yuh. No more sense than so many fool hens. What yuh all need is wives to think for yuh, tell yuh what to do, an' all that. There now, it's dry. Where's that cloth? Hold the foot still while I wrap it 'round. Now this liniment's a-goin' to burn. But the burnin's healin'. The harder it burns the quicker yuh'll get well. Shore! "As I was sayin', Tom, yuh'd ought to get married. Do yuh good. Make yuh steadier--give yuh a new interest in life, an' all that. Ever think of it, Tom?" Mrs. Burr rose to her feet and beamed down upon Loudon. That young man was beginning to feel strangely weak. First Scotty, and now Mrs. Burr! What was the matter with everybody? Scotty, of course, was an eccentric. But for Mrs. Burr brazenly to hurl her daughter at his head was incomprehensible. Loudon, red to the ears, mustered a weak smile. "I dunno, ma'am," he gulped, uncomfortably. "I--I hadn't thought of it, I guess." "Well, yuh'd ought to think of it. An' if yuh know what's best for yuh, yuh will think of it--hard. I tell yuh flat, Tom, a single man ain't no-account. He don't gather no moss, but he does collect bad habits. Now a wife she stops all this rattlin' round a-diggin' up what St. Peter will ask yuh questions about. Yessir, a good wife keeps yuh up to the bit an' a-headin' the right way."